Morgana Watches
by Soledad
Summary: Morgana watches Arthur and Merlin returning from the forest. Tag to “The Labyrinth of Gedref”.


**Morgana Watches**

**by Soledad**

**Disclaimer:** Arthur, Merlin and the other characters belong to the BBC. I'm just borrowing them to have some fun.

**Rating:** General, suitable for all

**Genre:** Mystery, perhaps a pinch of angst.

**Series/sequel:** none. Tag to "The Labyrinth of Gedref"

**Summary:** Morgana watches Arthur and Merlin returning from the forest.

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**Author's note:** This is a Christmas gift to my good friend, the_wild_iris, who introduced my to the awesomeness that is Merlin. As for the contents: I never bought the idea that Morgana would truly be so clueless…

Beta read by the most generous Altariel, thanks.

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Morgana watches them returning from the forest where they've lain the horn of the unicorn to rest. She watches them from her window high above the courtyard; the same window from which she usually watches the beheading of sorcerers, warlocks, druids, witches and any others brave or foolish enough to practice magic in the realm of Uther Pendragon.

The same window from which she can see the burning pyres, even if she turns her back.

On those days, she hates that window. It seems to her like a bad omen… like a door opening into darkness and death. She often wonders whose deaths are still lingering behind it. Yet she keeps watching, for someone has to _remember_.

One day, Uther will be dead and Arthur will be King, and then _perhaps_ the killings will stop. She only hopes to live long enough to see that day. She knows she isn't safe, no more than any-one else who stands out of the crowd in any way… and that knowledge frightens her sometimes.

Through _that_ window she is now watching them as they slowly make their way through the excited crowd. They are like day and night: Arthur, the broad-chested, golden Prince of Camelot, with the heavy shoulders of a swordsman, brave, valiant and devoted to his realm. And Merlin, dark-haired, narrow-shouldered and fragile like a twig, with those elfin ears of his. They couldn't be any more different, and yet they are the two sides of the same coin.

She wonders whether they know it. Whether they have any inkling of the great destiny she sometimes glimpses in her dreams. Whether they know that neither of them can fulfil his own without the other.

She supposes that at least _Merlin_ knows, even if Arthur has no idea just yet.

As they meander through the busy traffic of the courtyard, it seems as if the masses part before Arthur, like the waters of the Red Sea parted before Moses. Like the waters of an enchanted lake parted before Sophia, the Sidhe girl who wanted to sacrifice Arthur's soul to buy her way back to Avalon. Merlin seems but a mere shadow behind the powerful body of the Prince… like an afterthought.

And yet Morgana knows that Arthur isn't the one who could part the waters if he wanted. Yes, he _is_ the bravest, strongest warrior of Camelot, but all he can achieve is achieved by sword. He possesses nought akin to the great, screened power that is hidden in Merlin's seemingly fragile frame – the secret fire Morgana sometimes glimpses through the mirror of his eyes.

She doesn't know what kind of secret Merlin is hiding. She doesn't even _want_ to know. Some secrets are better left unresolved; just as sleeping dragons are better left lying.

Morgana doesn't keep her silence out of fear for Merlin's life. She is fairly certain that the shy, elf-like young man could protect himself with destructive efficiency, should the need arise. She also knows that Merlin would only protect himself at any costs in order to keep protecting Arthur.

What she's concerned about is Merlin's _soul_. Right now, the young man is still innocent, despite the sometimes questionable influence of court life. As soon as he's forced to kill someone – an ordinary human being, not some strange monster or some black sorcerer – either for Arthur or in self-defence, that innocence will be lost, forever.

Unleashing that hidden power the force of which, Morgana is certain, Merlin himself can't even guess, will help him to grow into his true inheritance – whatever _that_ might be. But it will also break him in a way that can never be undone. The Merlin she knows, the wide-eyed country boy, with his innocent joy over beauty and the wonders of this world, will be gone, making room for someone larger than life and twice as powerful.

_In a way, it's like birth,_ Morgana muses. As witches, wizards and sorcerers are said to have often declared in the past, when it didn't yet cost them their lives – particularly if their employers were reluctant to pay the price for their services – to create a life, a life must be taken. Merlin, the adorably clumsy and largely useless manservant of Arthur, the one who laughs at the village kids when those are throwing rotten fruit at him in the stocks, the one who cried over a slain unicorn and would have thrown away his life to save Gwen's, will have to die… to give life to a different Merlin. To someone powerful and dangerous, and yet, she is certain, still faithful to Arthur to a fault.

Together, they will lead Camelot to a greatness it has never known before. Only with Merlin at his side will Arthur become the once and future King that has long been promised by prophecy. That will be Albion's golden age, something people have only ever dreamed of and prayed for.

And yet, as they come across the courtyard, shoulders bumping playfully from time to time, involved in one of their easy banters, Morgana feels the burden of a profound loss weigh down her heart. Yes, they will both grow into greatness, each of them according to his gifts and his destiny. Yet they will never have _this_ again: this unlikely friendship between two young men, this lightness of heart, despite everything they've already faced together.

Innocence is a precious thing – and utterly fragile. Morgana mourns the day, perhaps in the not-so-distant future, when it will be shattered.

~The End~


End file.
